Chaos
by demonprosecutor
Summary: Chaos was not on Ema's side today. When intense flooding hits the city, Ema finds herself in need of a place to stay. Unfortunately, her only option seems to be staying with her least favourite person...
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's notes**_

**A Klema fic, because there will never be enough of these :D **

**Often Klavier appears as a total flirt constantly teasing Ema and trying to win her adoration. That really didn't come across to me in the game - it seemed more that he disliked her as much as she disliked him. And they must occasionally be genuinely mean to one another, more so than a bit of teasing and snackoo throwing, to evoke such disdain. But equally, their shared experiences and the similarities between Klavier's personality and that of a younger Ema make them perfectly suited. It would just take a lot of work and acceptance on both sides. This is just my view on the matter, and I'll try to portray it in this fic :)**

An acolyte of science, Ema preferred to call on chaos theory rather than fate. Observation of a collection of molecules from above would reveal chaotic movement, resulting in random collisions. Observe a city from above, and the same effect occurs. Each person may set out a route for themselves, but in reality these paths cannot help but cross, colliding at random - chaos.

Two people set off from different beginnings towards different destinations, and they need never meet. But outside factors push and pull, and given the right conditions, any two paths could overlap. Even if two walkers do their best to avoid such an unfortunate collision. Chaos.

Such whimsy wandered through Ema's mind as she observed little droplets of rain roll down the window next to her desk, crashing into each other, constantly forming new paths. She smiled - this was chaos in action.

"Fraulein Detective."

The smile was gone. Here also was chaos in action, but in this case, it was not so pretty.

"I can you're desperate to go and frolic in the rain," Klavier Gavin said with that patronising smile he reserved just for her, "but that case report due in this morning would be hugely appreciated."

With a silent scowl, Ema handed the report rather heavily to Klavier. He flicked through it.

"I see you've added some of your usual - _scientific _notes, Detective." He slammed the file shut. "I'd rather it was in on time instead. Perhaps you could leave the forensics to the professionals."

He walked off, leaving Ema seething with rage and on the verge of crushing her coffee mug in a vice-like grip.

"Hey," said a soft voice. "Pal. Don't get too worked up about him, okay?"

Ema looked up at the man at the desk opposite her and gave a gentle smile. From her first day on the force, Gumshoe had been protector, guiding light and friend. After all, he had had to put up with more than his share of difficult prosecutors.

"He's not such a bad guy."

"No, he's an absolute angel to everyone else. I'm just his personal punchbag."

"Well, hey - at least he's never whipped you."

"... Why would he have _whipped _me?!"

"Look, what I'm trying to say is, the kid's been through some rough stuff lately. It's not personal."

Ema looked out of the window again with a sigh. "Can we talk about something other than Gavin?"

"Sure thing, pal. I don't like the look of that rain."

Ema nodded. She'd never seen rain like this before. The whole city was on flood warning - and her district was in the red zone on every weather forecast.

"Hopefully we'll manage to get home," she said.

""Good point," Gumshoe replied, standing up and stretching. "That's why I'm heading home now. You should do the same, pal."

"I'll hold out a little longer. I've got to finish this or the fop will set fire to my desk."

"Suit yourself. See you tomorrow, kid." Gumshoe packed up his files and left. Gradually the office emptied until Ema was on her own. Glancing at the rain still hammering down outside she put down her pen, pulled on her lab coat and swung her bag over her shoulder. The fop could wait.

As she trotted down the stairs, she noticed a dull flashing from inside her bag. She rummaged around and eventually pulled out her phone - she had absentmindedly had it on silent all day. A glance at the screen caused her to freeze. Nine missed calls and seventeen texts, all from her neighbour, Isla. Hurriedly, Ema phoned her back.

"Ema! Where have you been?!" shouted a frantic voice.

"Wow! What's up?"

"Seriously? You live in a ground-floor apartment in the middle of intense flooding and you're asking what's up?"

"It can't be that bad. I'll pick up some buckets on the way home."

"Buckets?! Ema, you won't even be able to get inside. Even when this rain lets up, the place won't be liveable for a while. You need to find somewhere to stay. I'm with my mom - we'd offer, but there's barely room to move in here. What about your sister?"

"She's in France!"

"Oh - um, work colleagues?"

"Isla, don't you worry about me. I'll find something. Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too. Good luck!"

Ema dashed down the stairs and out onto the street, where she was hit by a wall of heavy rain. It was much worse that it had seemed from behind a sheet of glass. She pulled out her Blue Badger umbrella but it was too flimsy and was quickly torn away by the wind.

This couldn't possibly get worse.

Chaos dictated otherwise. A fancy black car swooped by, spraying Ema with dirty water from the road. She screamed, half in shock, half in rage.

The car pulled up beside her and the window rolled halfway down. The voice which came from it only made Ema more furious.

"Fraulein, get in the car!"

Ema hesitated. She was caught between the worst storm this city had ever seen, with winds approaching hurricane level and rain threatening to sweep her off to the sea - and the fop. It was tough contest. Eventually, however, she jumped into the backseat of the car.

"I though you only travelled by your perky little deathmobile," she snapped, resentful of having to accept a favour from Klavier Gavin.

"Not in this weather, Detective," he said, looking his shoulder with a less than pleased expression at the rainwater being absorbed into his lovingly cared for seats. "I have a more practical vehicle for such circumstances. Unfortunately, you have now soaked and ruined it."

Ema scowled. "That's not my fault! And never mind your car - my apartment is underwater!"

"Which hotel am I driving you to, then, Fraulein?"

Ema paled. Of course, it would flood on the day she left her wallet at home. All she had in her bag was a five dollar note and some commemorative pressed pennies from Gatewater Land.

"Um - the Wright Anything Agency."

Klavier chuckled. Ema would have started a row, but she had more important issues to confront. As Klavier drove on, she dug her phone out of her bag again and dialled a familiar number."

"Hello?"

"Mr Wright! It's Ema. I really, really need a place to stay." Again, she heard Klavier laugh quietly, and had to resist smacking him around the head with her phone.

"What? No. No way. Fourteen people have already turned up here in the past hour."

"But I - wait, fourteen?"

"I've made a lot of friends across the years. Ema, I'm sorry, but there's no -" He was cut off by a piercing shriek in the background.

"W-What was that, Mr Wright?"

"Sorry, let me just deal with that. Apollo! Your chords of steel are _not _going to scare the rain away!"

"Mr Wright?"

"Ema, there's no room here. As it is already, we're probably going to have to float a table outside for Apollo to sleep on." More shrieking. "Just find a hotel, okay Ema?" The line went dead. Ema stared dumbfounded at the phone in her hand.

"So - I suppose I'm not driving to the Wright Anything Agency anymore?" said the voice from the front, smug and triumphant.

"N-no," sad Ema, her cheeks burning. "Um - try -"

"Don't bother, Fraulein. We're already home."

The car pulled into the parking lot of one of the most prestigious - and in this case driest - apartment complexes in the city.

"No-one's going to take you in at this time and in this weather. It isn't ideal for either of us, but you're going to have to stay with me." He handed back an umbrella - black, with purple Gs on it, of course - and climbed out of the front seat, with no umbrella of his own. Now Ema was even more in debt to the fop.

As he opened the car door, Ema felt a distinctive sinking feeling in her gut. Chaos was not on her side today.


	2. Chapter 2

Klavier was relieved when the elevator doors opened. He felt too exhausted to make idle chat, and the silence on the journey up had been stifling. At least in the apartment he and Ema could be in different rooms. He motioned for her to go first, and followed her into his large open-plan lounge. He had intended for the light wood and minimalistic decor to appear spacious and welcoming, but to him it just seemed cold and empty.

"The elevator goes straight into your apartment?" Ema said in a timid voice.

"Ja, it's the penthouse."

To his surprise, she nodded. He had expected a bitter comment on the foppishness of his home, but Ema just stared around wide-eyed. Klavier felt a twinge of guilt. He knew the rift between his income and that of a detective fairly low down the chain of authority. He had known she would be overwhelmed, and he couldn't deny that in a way, he had wanted her to be.

"There's a guest room through here," he said. "I imagine you don't have much with you. I can lend you a t-shirt or something to sleep in. I have a few spare toothbrushes around too."

"I'll bet you do, fop," she muttered, walking into the room he had indicated. He couldn't help but smile. It would seem her come-backs lost their bite a little when her guard was down.

He left her to burn holes in his furniture with her glare as he searched his room for the promised t-shirt. Glancing around his wardrobe, in which every neatly folded item had its proper place, his eyes fell briefly on a purple Gavinners t-shirt. It would have been hilarious - but then he remembered something even better. In a forgotten corner lay a faded baggy t-shirt from his school days. On the front was a crest and the words, "St Cäcilia Schule Fußballverein"; on the back, in large letters, "GAVIN" and the number 8. He snatched up a toothbrush, unopened in its plastic packet, from the cupboard in his en-suite, and walked back into the lounge where Ema was standing looking very uncomfortable.

"Here." He threw the toothbrush and t-shirt at her. As she caught them and examined the shirt, a scowl spread across her face. Just as he had planned.

"I am not wearing something emblazoned with _your _name, Gavin."

He shrugged. "It's the only item of a decent length I could find, Fräulein."

She stared at the shirt a while longer and shook her head, before disappearing for a moment into the guest room. She returned empty handed and leaned against the door frame.

"Now what?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" said Klavier, settling onto the sofa and reaching for the guitar resting next to it.

"Well, what do we do now?"

"What do you normally do after work?" He gently strummed the guitar. "I usually spend a little quality time with this lovely lady."

The door slammed. He chuckled. He'd known it wouldn't be long before she locked herself away in her room. It was better for both of them this way. A few minutes past and he quickly fell into a melody, his fingers taking over from his mind so that he could just listen to the music. It washed over him and he closed his eyes, and he gave himself completely to the intertwining of the notes, the familiar scratch of the old guitar, the warm muffled laughter -

Wait, no. That wasn't right.

He stopped playing and listened. From Ema's room he could just make out casual talk dotted with a cheerful giggle. It took a moment of confusion for him to realise she was on the phone. The lightness in her voice was uncharacteristic. He lay back on the sofa and tuned his ears to pick up the words behind the wall.

"... never forgive you! But I suppose you can't help being over the pond. How is everyone? Have you been to my college?" There was a pause. "Well, you know some of them. Not that they would be around anymore. I need to go back too." Another pause. "Don't be silly, Lana, I'll pay my own way. But have you been to the sea yet?"

The conversation went on and Klavier felt oddly warmed by it. He managed to pick up from Ema's ramblings that she and her sister had lived for a time in France on the coast. She talked of old times and, stranger still, old friends. Klavier struggled to imagine the bitter, grouchy detective with friends. He'd seen her hanging around with Apollo and Trucy, but only at crime scenes - that seemed more of a professional relationship built on a mutual dislike of Klavier himself. But there was music in Ema's voice tonight, and Klavier could almost smell the seasalt as he drifted into her stories, to which he knew he had no right.

"Gavin?"

He awoke with a jolt. A glance at the clock told him he had only been asleep for an hour.

"Sorry, Fräulein," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Long day."

"Huh. Do you mind if I use your kitchen?"

He looked around at her, leaning again on the doorframe of the guest room. She seemed reluctant to step out of her territory. The scowl on her face made Klavier wonder if the conversation he had overheard had just been a dream.

"Go ahead. You don't need to ask, you can use whatever you wish."

"Even the Olympic sized swimming pool and bowling alley and ballroom you've probably got hidden around here?" she said as she crossed over to the kitchen area of the lounge.

"I'm afraid you'd have to share all those with the rest of the complex," he said with a sleepy smile. "Although there is a hot tub on the balcony."

"What do you want to eat, fop?" she snapped, ignoring him.

"Oh, Fräulein, you're cooking?" he said, suddenly feeling himself wake up fully. "Please, allow me - you're my guest."

"No, I'm a refugee. You're letting me stay at your place, so I'm cooking the meals. What do you want?"

Realising that disagreement would be utterly futile, Klavier instead opted to put his recently obtained information to good use. "I feel like French food tonight. Know any recipes?"

"Hell no," she said. "Love France, hate the food. Do you have any noodles around here?"

"The cupboard next to the fridge."

He watched with an expression of amused surprise as she ransacked his kitchen for noodles, vegetables and spices. "This might take a while," she said. "It was our big Friday night dish in college. It's the only recipe I can remember without Jasper's book."

"Jasper?"

"One of my college roommates," she said. A small smile played on her lips and a far off look was in her eye. "He's a total saint."

"Must be, to have lived with you."

Ema's face switched immediately back to a glare as she remembered who she was talking to. She continued cooking silently. She was unexpectedly skilled. As Klavier watched her hands nimbly chop and mix and switch between tasks, his curiosity grew.

"Tell me more about your roommates."

"No.'

Well, it was worth a shot.

"After we eat, I'll give you a tour of the place," he said, stretching out on the sofa again. He had lived alone for a long time and having someone else cook for him was an unusual, but not unpleasant, experience. It felt homely.

"And how many hours will that take?"

"This place isn't _that _big, Fräulein."

"Yes it is. My entire apartment could fit into this room."

He laughed, but it was an awkward laugh. That was probably true. He reached behind him and picked up the guitar again. A little light music would displace any uncomfortable conversation.

After a while, Ema peered over him, two bowls in her hands. "Okay, show's over. Where am I putting these?"

He stood up and led the way through a wooden archway at the back of the room to the conservatory. This was a room of glass on his balcony, with a long dining table in its centre. He only used it when he had company. It seemed silly to sit alone at that huge table. Tonight the rain was crashing down on the glass, and he headed straight for the stereo to drown it out.

"What music do you like?" he asked. She didn't respond. A glance at her revealed that she was completely mesmerised by the view; from the balcony they could see the skyline of the city, lit up against the dark sky. He had seen it so many times that it left no impression on him anymore. "Detective Skye?"

"H-Huh?"

"Any music preference?"

She stared at him blankly for a while and then shook her head. "Anything you have will just be crashy and gaudy anyway."

He frowned. He could stand most of her jibes easily, but an attack on his music taste was a little close to the bone. He selected a CD of acoustic guitar music - simple and inoffensive - and sat down opposite Ema. "See?" he said. "Neither crash nor gaudy."

She shrugged and started eating, staring past him at the view outside. Klavier looked down at the bowl. It was a colourful and eclectic dish, and didn't look too bad. Klavier was an atrociously picky eater, but it was only polite to at least eat some of it -

"Wow."

"What?" snapped Ema, her eyes still fixed on the skyline.

"This is amazing."

"I know."

It seemed that Ema wished to get the meal over with quickly, without any conversation, but Klavier was a social creature. He knew perfectly well that any conversation with Ema would end up with discomfort and insults, but this could not override his natural inclination towards chatter.

"Could I have the recipe for this?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's not mine to give."

"I'm sure Jasper wouldn't mind."

"How? You've never even met him."

"Well, not everyone is as obsessively uncivil as yourself, Detective." Okay, that probably hadn't been the wisest move.

"Just because I don't pander to your every whim."

"Far from it. You actively go out of your way to be as disagreeable as possible."

"Only for you."

Usually Klavier tried to avoid conflict, but Ema was just impossible. Even now she was refusing to look at him, her gaze still locked on the view of the city. "Yes, I've noticed that. Your bizarre little vendetta against me - completely uncalled for and entirely unprofessional."

"Unprofessional?" Now her eyes snapped to him. "What's professional about flirting with every colleague and having your little following of fangirls trample every crime scene?"

"I think that's quite rich coming from you, Detective Skye. Don't think I don't know about your constant dealings with the defence, just to spite me. And your little science experiments. We have a forensics department for a reason."

Her eyes widened for a moment, then darkened and filled with venom. She focused now on her food, letting her hair fall across her face to block him out. For a while they ate in this suffocating manner, with only the guitar music filling in the silence. When they had finished their meal, Klavier knew he couldn't keep it up.

"I apologise," he said quietly, not looking at her. "That was out of order."

"People have said worse." She picked up both their bowls and walked back out into the lounge. He listened to the noise of the dishwasher being loaded and the slam of the guest room door before making his own way out. As he wandered around the apartment, going through his usual routine of turning off lights, locking doors and making sure everything was tidy and in its place, he paused by her door. She was on the phone again, talking in a subdued voice.

"I know, Mr Wright, but do you think there'll be any room after a while? Surely all your guests won't need a place to stay for that long. Apparently my apartment is wrecked, I don't know how long I'll be in this position."

There was a long pause.

"No. No way. I hate the guy."

Klavier sighed and walked with a heavy step to his own room. He knew perfectly well who she was referring to.


	3. Chapter 3

Ema awoke to a familiar beeping and instantly flung out a hand to silence the alarm on her phone. She frowned when she realised how well she had slept. It displeased her to be comfortable in the fop's habitat.

She flicked on the bedside light and rubbed her eyes before staring around the bedroom. It was very neutral and impersonal, much like a hotel room. The carpet was a rich purple and incredibly soft; the furniture was simple but stylish; the modern paintings didn't seem to be of anything in particular. It was as if Klavier had cut it straight out of a home décor catalogue.

She was glad for the en-suite. The thought of having to share a bathroom with him made her shudder. Although, as she stepped into the shower, she also laughed at the mental image of the array of beauty products that were no doubt stacked neatly in Klavier Gavin's own en-suite. Even in the guest bathroom, there were more products than Ema owned. She examined the shampoo and conditioner. The brand name looped illegibly across the sleek bottles in a tiny expensive font.

"Hopefully it won't make me smell of him," she muttered.

When eventually Ema was ready and dressed – in her capris and the football shirt, as there was no use soaking her own clothes with her wet hair – she wished herself luck and opened the door to the lounge. To her surprise Klavier was already up and looking nauseatingly immaculate. A laptop on the coffee table before him, he was watching the weather forecast on the television, the sound on mute.

"Guten Morgen, Fräulein," he said, not glancing away from the screen. "Did you sleep well?"

"What's the situation with the flooding?"

"Mayhem. People are advised not to travel. I have contacted the Chief Prosecutor and Head of Criminal Affairs; they are aware we will not be able to make it in today."

Ema closed her eyes and sighed. This meant she would be stuck here for at least another day. Not to mention the rumours that would be spreading now that people knew she was at Klavier's apartment.

"There's a small boutique in the complex," Klavier continued. "You can get some spare clothes there. I have phoned down; they are opening early for you."

Ema's horror only grew at this news. Not only was she now massively inconveniencing people, but she was also in an impossible situation. It was hugely unlikely that any store that the fop would visit would sell anything for five dollars and some commemorative pressed pennies from Gatewater Land.

"I don't have any –"

"You can charge it to my account," Klavier interrupted. "Pay me back later. Until then, feel free to soak my irreplaceable childhood clothing just as you did my priceless car." He glanced her and smiled mischievously. "Or maybe you've just grown attached to wearing my name?"

Ema glared at him. "Where's your hairdryer?" Klavier motioned with his hand to his bedroom.

It was huge: the very essence of glimmerousness. A massive four-poster bed stood in the centre, covered in an impractical number of cushions. The walls were covered with guitars and photos, though there were several glaring gaps – clearly he had taken down anything with Daryan or Kristoph in it. The other stand-out feature was the large mirrored wardrobe – well, thought Ema, every princess needs somewhere to keep her shoes.

Klavier's bathroom did not fail her either. Skin care, hair products – was that fake tan? She laughed out loud. To be fair to the fop, he was every bit the perfect rock star. The hairdryer, like everything in there, had a compartment of its own. Before she left, Ema considered mixing everything around and maybe swapping a few labels on bottles. But no, that was too cruel even for her.

When she returned to the lounge, she could hear Klavier on the phone in a different room, cancelling meetings. Reluctantly, she stepped into the lift and headed down to the boutique.

The prices made her want to cry. They made her want to fall on the floor and heave a full-on raging tantrum. To make matters worse, she was the only person in the shop due to the early hour, and the girl behind the counter was giving her the most judgemental glare Ema had ever seen. Gingerly she picked out a very simple blue day dress and the cheapest underwear she could find, charged them with a lump in her throat to Klavier's account, and changed in the fitting room of the shop. She could not bear a moment longer in that gaudy Gavin shirt.

"Perhaps not entirely practical for the weather, Fräulein," said Klavier as she stepped back out of the lift. He was putting the finishing touches to a continental breakfast laid out on the kitchen's breakfast bar – toast, cheese, yogurt, fruit and croissants. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea, thanks. I'd have bought a raincoat but I'd have had to get a second job to pay for it. Where's your washing machine?"

"There's a laundry basket in your bathroom. The maid will collect it later." Ema rolled her eyes. Of course the fop wouldn't do his own laundry.

"What kind of tea?" he asked when she returned from her room. "I have green, Earl Grey, Assam, raspberry -"

"This is ridiculous."

"- elderflower, citrus, peppermint -"

"Oh!" Ema cried. Klavier glanced back at her, a surprised smile on his face at her ourburst. "Um – peppermint. Please."

"You're a fan of peppermint tea, Fräulein?"

"I always drank it with my sister when we were younger." She pulled herself up onto a stool at the breakfast bar, wondering why she'd mentioned Lana. It would have been easier to just to say yes and leave it at that.

"I didn't know you had a sister," said Klavier as he prepared the tea.

"Yes." She hesitated. "She used to be a prosecutor."

Klavier raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps I know her."

"No. It was a long time ago."

He handed her the tea and moved around to the breakfast bar to sit at the stool next to her. "Please, help yourself. And tell me about your sister."

It would have been easy to have told him to mind his own business, but perhaps the aroma of peppermint took her back to better times, for somehow Ema found herself chatting about her sister over tea and toast with Klavier Gavin. She didn't mention any of the tricky stuff, of course.

"I must say," Klavier chuckled, "she sounds nothing like you."

"Not obsessively uncivil?"

He flinched. "I didn't mean that. I was out of sorts, Detective, and I apologise."

She shrugged and turned her eyes to the last of her peppermint tea. From the corner of her vision she could see Klavier frown. He felt guilty. Good, she thought. Let the fop squirm.

But then she felt a twinge of guilt herself. Mustering all her strength, she looked up at him and smiled. "How about that tour?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's notes - Klavier gets a little stressy in this chapter. I do see him as a bit of a diva :D I'd consider it just as canon if he threw himself on the floor and refused to get up until someone brought him a skinny latte. But I don't think Ema would put up with that for long so I've gone for a calmer approach...**

* * *

"What was it that you were so eager so see, Fräulein?" said Klavier as he pressed the B button on the elevator panel. "The pool, the bowling alley, and the ballroom?"

"I was kidding, fop."

"I wasn't."

When they stepped out of the elevator, Klavier was hit with the familiar scent of fragrant soaps, relaxing candles and a hint of chlorine. Already Ema has an amused smirk on her face; he followed her eyes to the list of prices on the wall.

"No charge for residents," he said. "Or their guests. This way, Detective Skye." He clicked his fingers and headed down a curved corridor.

"You don't need to snap your fingers to call me, Gavin. I'm not your pet dog." Klavier smiled. Ema stamped on the back of his shoe, tripping him up a little. No, he thought. I am not going to rise to it.

As they walked through, Klavier pointed out the pool, the gym and the spa to an uninterested Ema. She was mainly unresponsive, apart from when Klavier suggested she pay a visit to the spa during her stay.

"What's that supposed, to mean, Gavin?"

"Oh, I didn't aim to offend. You just seem a little highly strung. I'm sure a good masseur could help with your stress levels. Although while you're there, your hair –"

Bop. A snackoo hit the back of his head. She must have been keeping them in her satchel for an opportune moment.

"Come on, Fräulein. You can't throw things at me for offering you a free spa trip."

"No thanks. Not my kind of chemicals."

"Well, perhaps the last stop on this floor might be more to your taste." He pushed the final door open: the bowling alley. To be truthful, Klavier seldom made use of this facility. His guests at the apartment complex tended to visit for more formal purposes, and although he'd come here from time to time with the band in days gone by, it had always been Daryan's territory really.

To his surprise, Ema smiled when she saw the room. It wasn't a patronising smirk this time, but a genuine one – the smile she wore when she heard the forensics team were stuck in traffic and would be late to a crime scene.

"You like bowling, Detective?"

"I was on a team at university. We were the champions three years a row."

"You must be good."

"You bet." She was grinning now. "I mean, there was only one other team. But we beat them every time."

"Fancy a game now?"

Her eyes sparkled, but when she looked at him it stopped. A shadow seemed to fall across her face. "With you? No thanks, fop."

She turned to leave. Her hand was on the door when Klavier reached out an arm and touched her shoulder, not entirely gently.

"Your other option is sitting in the apartment with me trying to make conversation. Care to reconsider?"

Ema glared at him. "You're like a kid when you don't get everything your own way." But it would seem she saw the logic in his words, as she stormed over to the closest lane.

She was as good as she had claimed. Klavier tried to make his frustratingly average score seem effortless and casual, as if he were letting her win, but he was actually trying very hard. With anyone else he could have accepted defeat with (mostly) good grace, but something about the way she laughed every time she got a strike really irritated him.

"That was just luck," he said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice as once again every pin hit the ground with a dismaying clatter.

"There's no such thing as luck."

"Of course there is."

"Well, there's chaos. But that's different. It's scientific. And there's no chaos on a bowling lane. It's all angles and pressure, exact and predictable." He must have been pouting a little more than he thought, because she laughed. "Come here. I'll try and teach you a technique, if you want."

Klavier had to swallow his pride a great deal as Ema showed him several times over how to bowl, moving his hands when he wasn't doing it exactly right and sighing disappointedly when he still couldn't get a strike.

"Usually in the rom com movies, our roles would be reversed, Fräulein."

After that comment Klavier did not received any more assistance from Ema.

By the end of the game, Klavier still had yet to master the Skye Bowling Technique, and Ema's was a runaway victory. Although his ego was a little wounded, he found his spirits strangely lifted by her cheerful expression as they walked through the corridor, coming out at the other end of the reception and entering the lift.

"I'd have beaten you if we were playing Guitar Hero."

"Cheer up, Gavin. You can't be good at everything. You're such a perfectionist."

"What's wrong with perfection?"

"Nothing, as long as you don't feel the need to work your detectives to unreasonable extremes to achieve it."

"Unreasonable? I don't receive such complaints from my other colleagues."

"Well, your other colleagues don't get the same treatment."

"A lovely lady like yourself deserves special treatement."

"You know I hate my job so you –"

"Please. Detective Skye. Relax. You're obsessed with work. Today is a day off and you get to spend it in this playground. So shall we finish off the tour?"

The elevator stopped and they stepped out. Now this was a room. It reached up several storeys to an intricate ceiling with a painted sky and crystal chandeliers. In the far left corner a spiral staircase with the same red carpet wound up to a gallery all around the room, held back by a dark wooden railing. Along the sides stood little black tables with tablecloths of a light golden material shimmering down to the floor. Tall chairs, also black, with rich red cushions, were being kept upside down on the tables. The vast circle of tables paused for a platform, one which Klavier knew well, where the dark wood of the gallery railings and the scarlet of the carpets and cushions came together in stage and curtains, empty now but for a quiet grand piano.

There were patterns in this room, and the gold of the table cloths fell also around a frosted window which spanned the entire far wall, stretching from gallery to sandy wooden floor, though which the grey clouds outside became distorted and sparkling silver.

"And here's your ballroom."Klavier had tried to speak softly, but it sounded loud and jarring in the quiet of that room.

They stood still for a while. Despite the brilliance of his surroundings, Klavier found his gaze drawn to the woman next to him. A strange frequency he couldn't quite pick up was running through her visit.

"Do you dance, Fräulein?"

"No."

"Ah, only because you never learned."

"I learned. So it's an active choice."

He raised an eyebrow. The thought of Ema Skye learning to ballroom dance was an odd one. And heaven help the unfortunate individual who had been called upon to teach her.

"That's quite a piano," she said as if to herself.

"I didn't know you played piano, Detective."

She shook her head. "No, I don't." She paused. "Mr Wright does."

"Phoenix Wright is a man of many talents." Did that sound bitter? The tone of resent was not intentional. Habits are hard to break.

"The best of men."

He had nothing to say to this.

"Mr Edgeworth plays the flute," Ema said with a strange smile – almost sad. She walked across the room and up the stage steps, standing in the shadow of the curtain.

"Every girl admires a musician." Klavier forced a shallow suave voice.

"No. A taste for music doesn't always mean someone has a heart or soul."

The air seemed darker now and Klavier became more aware of the shadows. But that room was still beautiful.

She laughed and the spell was broken. "Thanks for the tour, fop," she said, jumping off the stage. "I'll make it up to you. We can play Guitar Hero."


End file.
